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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177401">A Little Something</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Easley/pseuds/William_Easley'>William_Easley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Mystery Shack, Summer of 2012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:27:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Easley/pseuds/William_Easley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Late May 2012. Wendy Corduroy has just turned fifteen and is ready to begin working in the Mystery Shack. She hopes this is going to be a lazy, laid-back, peaceful summer where nothing exciting happens. Good luck with that!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Little Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not own the show Gravity Falls or any of the characters. They are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of the show's creator, Alex Hirsch. I earn no money from writing my fanfictions; I do them out of love for the show, for practice writing, and to amuse myself and, I hope, other readers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A Little Something</strong>
</p><p>(May 26, 2012)</p>
<hr/><p>"You're late!" Stan Pines growled that Saturday morning at ten as Wendy came into the gift shop.</p><p>"Sue me," Wendy muttered. "Look, I had to take care of something, OK? I'm not even a whole hour late, and there's nobody here but you anyway." She pushed through the staff-only door and emerged in a second without her lunch bag and jacket. "All right, Mr. Pines, I'm sorry. I just had to make a stop downtown, and it took longer than I thought it would. Won't happen again."</p><p>"Better not," Stan said. "Now if you're gonna work here all summer—hey, when does school end?"</p><p>"Yesterday was the last day," Wendy said.</p><p>"Good. Now, tomorrow we don't open until one-thirty but from Tuesday on, you gotta be in by nine A.M. Got that?"</p><p>Wendy settled on the stool at the register, pulling a folded magazine from her hip pocket. "Yeah."</p><p>Stan set the cash box on the counter beside the register. "Good. Now, like I told you last weekend, the rules are simple. The rubes come in, you sell 'em crap, you make sure you don't undercharge 'em, you don't shortchange 'em, you don't rake off any cash to keep for yourself—"</p><p>"Oh, man," Wendy said, rolling her eyes. "My dad would, like, whip my butt if I did something like that. I'm honest about money."</p><p>"You better be," Stan said. "Because we inventory once a week and make sure nobody's rippin' us off. That includes shoplifting, so you gotta watch kids especially. Lot of 'em will try to sneak something little inside their jeans or in a jacket."</p><p>The door opened and Soos came in humming, "Comin' into the gift shop, doo ti too."</p><p>"Soos!" Stan said, looking away from Wendy. "You fix that porta-john yet?"</p><p>Soos all but saluted. "Yes, Mr. Pines! Just had to replace the tank. It was cracked. Man, that was a stinky job! I hauled the busted one down into the trees and dragged the hose over to rinse it out good. Don't worry, I'll take it to the dump later. Oh, hi, Wendy!"</p><p>"Hi, Soos," Wendy said. "Stan's teaching me how to rip off tourists."</p><p>"It's a life lesson," Stan said. "Nobody but me gets to skim, that's rule number one. Rule number two is if you decide to do it, you better be smarter than I am."</p><p>Soos chuckled, as if Stan were joking, and maybe he was, who knows. "Hey, Wendy, dude, did you get it?"</p><p>"Yep!" she said, reaching into her side jeans pocket and producing a flat, plain wallet. "Check it out!" She pulled out a folded cardboard rectangle and opened it up. "I'm street-legal, almost!"</p><p>Stan glanced at the learner's permit. "That what took you into town and made you late to work?"</p><p>"Yep. I told you it was important. I didn't have time all this week with school and all."</p><p>Stan eased off. "Oh. Hey, Soos, put up another shelf on that wall, OK? I got some eye-level merch I want to put there so the kiddies can't grab it, but adults can. Make it about chin-level to you."</p><p>"Right away!" Soos said happily. "Out in the shed I got like four of those kinds of shelves, and some brackets. Will one of them do? Match the lower ones, I mean?"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, fine," Stan said. "Wendy, before you put that away, let me see it a second."</p><p>"My permit?" She handed it over. "It's not a fake, Mr. Pines."</p><p>"Nah, I see it ain't. Oh, your birthday was on the twenty-first, huh?"</p><p>"It is every year."</p><p>"Why didn't you say anything?"</p><p>Wendy shrugged. "Eh, birthdays aren't a big deal at my house."</p><p>Stan handed the paper back. "Remember, you still can't drive unless you got an adult in the car with you."</p><p>"Yeah, I know," Wendy said, tucking her wallet back into her pocket. "That's gonna be a pain."</p><p>"I thought you were older," Stan said. "I know I've seen you drivin' that Thompson kid's car now and then."</p><p>"Dad let me start driving the pickup when I was twelve," Wendy said. "Long as I was just on the logging roads. And I've never driven Thompson's car more than a mile or two."</p><p>Stan grinned. "Don't get me wrong, so you bent the rules. I like that. Just don't get caught. If you're gonna work for me, I don't want Dan blowin' up 'cause you got a traffic ticket and takin' you away from the Shack so you can go to that, what was it, lumber yard?"</p><p>Wendy made a face. "Logging camp up north. Ugh. I'll be careful."</p><p>"Good for you. Now, last Saturday we went over how to work the register. Let's run through a couple of sales simulations this morning before we get busy, just to make sure you got it. Oh—I had this made for you at the copier store. Here ya go."</p><p>Wendy took the name badge, smiled and said, "You spelled it right," and pinned it on. "My first birthday present," she said.</p><p>Stan unlocked  the cash box. "OK, open up the register and stock—wait, what?"</p><p>"What?" Wendy asked.</p><p>Stan stared at her. "The name badge, you said it was your first birthday present?"</p><p>"Well, yeah," Wendy said. "Not really. I mean my crew gives me little tokens, but, you know, Dad and my brothers don't. The Corduroys don't do birthdays."</p><p>Stan frowned. "Some religious thing or—"</p><p>"Just a Corduroy thing," Wendy said. "OK, I open the register. Want to check me? Thirty singles." She counted them out. "Twenty fives. Twenty tens. Twenty twenties. And five fifties, there we go. Gotta crack a roll of pennies. And a roll of nickels. Dimes. Quarters. How'd I do?"</p><p>"You did OK," Stan said.</p><p>Soos came back with a six-foot-long shelf, four brackets, a tape measure, and a portable drill. He got busy measuring and marking. Stan went backstage, as he called it, to don his tie, jacket, eyepatch, and fez.</p><p>Wendy leaned back against the wall and put her feet on the counter as she took out her phone and texted Tambry to let her know about the learner's permit. Soos efficiently mounted the brackets and then placed the shelf. "Job well done!" he congratulated himself. He packed up and headed for the door but paused at the register. "Hey, Wendy? Happy birthday. I'm sorry it's a little late, but I didn't know about it until I saw your license. These are kind of a little present if you like them." He put five Hirschy Chocolate Bars on the counter.</p><p>"Oh, Soos!" Wendy said, looking at the candy. "That's so sweet! The candy and the thought, I mean. Thanks, man."</p><p>"Yeah, well, you know, sweets to the sweet. Not that you're sweet. I mean, I'm not hitting on you, dawg!"</p><p>Wendy grinned. "I accept the birthday present in just plain friendship. Thanks, Soos, seriously."</p><p>Then a family of five came in, and the dad, a rangy fellow with round spectacles and a long nose, asked Wendy, "Miss? What's the mystery tour? We saw the signs."</p><p>"Ta-dah!" They all looked around. Stan, all decked out in costume, stood leaning on his eight-ball cane. "I'm glad you asked! Permit me to introduce myself, folks. I'm Mr. Mystery, master of the Mystery Shack! In just twenty minutes, I'll conduct an exclusive tour of the Mystery Trail, pointing out the wonders and weirdnesses of the countryside, followed up by a tour of our Museum, stocked with oddities and things that make you go 'Whaa?' Meanwhile, shop around our gift store, where you'll find games and souvenirs that will baffle and befuddle you! May I ask your name?"</p><p>"Buckster," the guy said, "I'm Cliff, and this is my wife Carole, and these are our kids, Charley, he's twelve, Clarissa, she's ten, and this is little Chester."</p><p>"I'm seven!" Chester said. "Daddy, I want one of these!"</p><p>"The Magic Eight-Ball!" Stan said, beaming at the kid. "It answers all your questions. Excellent choice! Where are you folks from?"</p><p>Carole Buckster smiled. "We're from a little town in Connecticut. You wouldn't have heard of it, though. It's just north of Wononskopomuc Lake."</p><p>Stan put a finger and thumb to his forehead. "Don't tell me, don't tell me, something's coming through . . . I'm getting that there's a barbecue restaurant there, Who Do Bar-B-Q . . . and there's an Ethan Allen Street . . . and the town name, I can almost see it, I'm getting it. . . ."</p><p>"How do you do that?" Mr. Buckster asked, looking awed.</p><p>Stan closed his eyes. "Sh, sh . . . gotta concentrate . . . Lakeville, right?"</p><p>"How'd he know about us?" Charley asked.</p><p>"How did you?" Clarissa echoed.</p><p>"Ah, ah, I'm Mr. Mystery!" Stan said, wagging a finger. "A good mystic never reveals his secrets. Welcome to Oregon, Bucksters! Hey, if you're on vacation, I'll suggest some great family-type places to visit."</p><p>Another six or seven customers came in. Wendy sold forty-odd dollars in souvenirs, they all went on the Mystery and Museum tour, and the day was underway. For most of the morning, Wendy just leaned back and read her <em>Indie Fuzz</em> magazine, occasionally selling a tee-shirt or a map or an ice-cream treat. She really got busy only when Stan brought a tramload of happy tourists back and they decided to pick up some memorabilia.</p><p>During a lull, Wendy asked, "Hey, Mr. Pines, how do you pull off that mystic junk? I mean, how'd you know where those Connecticut people were from?"</p><p>"Natural ability," Stan said. "I'm psychic."</p><p>Wendy grinned. "No, you're not."</p><p>He laughed. "Nah, but I spent about ten years crisscrossing the United States as a traveling salesman. And I got a good memory for places. I can tell you where Mountain Rest, South Carolina is, or name the two best places to eat in Verano Beach, Florida. When the lady mentioned Wononskopomuc Lake and said they came from north of it, Lakeville is just about the only place they could be from. I sold bandages and shammies up in there."</p><p>It wasn't bad for a Saturday. At six o'clock, when Wendy settled up, the gift shop had made about four hundred in sales, and Stan had raked in more in admissions to the Museum and the Mystery Tour.</p><p>Wendy got her stuff and was about to head out to her bike when Stan said, "Hey, kid, wait a minute. Soos! Where are you?"</p><p>"Here, Mr. Pines," Soos said, coming in from the kitchen. "I just finished rewiring the toaster."</p><p>Stan looked down at his feet, as though embarrassed. "Look, uh, this ain't gonna be a regular thing, ya know, but since Wendy had a birthday—you're fifteen, right?"</p><p>"Have been all week," she said.</p><p>"OK, so let me take you an' Soos out to Greasy's for a birthday meal. On me. One time only."</p><p>"Aw, and I thought you were just a crabby old man!" Wendy said.</p><p>"I am!" snapped Stan. Take it or leave it, I got no time to—"</p><p>"Let's go," Wendy said. "You on board, Soos?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah!" Soos said.</p><p>So Stan got into normal street clothes—he took off the fez and eyepatch—and he drove them to Greasy's in the Stanleymobile.</p><p>They settled in a booth, Stan told Lazy Susan Wentworth, "This is all on me, so one check," and Soos had the steak sandwich and thick fries, Wendy had a salmon salad, and Stan had chicken and dumplings. He stood up halfway through to visit the bathroom, then came back and finished eating.</p><p>"That was good, thanks. I gotta go now," Wendy said. "Dad and the boys are goin' bowling tonight, so this is my cleaning time."</p><p>"Be a little late getting home," Stan said. "I'll tell Dan I kept you late straightening up the shop." He waved Lazy Susan over. She brought with her a small white-frosted cake, no more than six inches in diameter, with a candle on it. In pink letters, she had iced Happy B'Day Wendy (there wasn't a lot of room) on the top.</p><p>"Happy belated birthday, Wendy," Stan said gruffly. He lit the candle. "Make a wish."</p><p>They sang, she blew out the candle, and then Stan reached in his pocket and handed Wendy a tiny package loosely wrapped in red tissue paper with a green ribbon inexpertly tied around it. "From me and the Shack."</p><p>"Aw," Wendy said. "You didn't."</p><p>"Open it!" Soos said.</p><p>Having lived in Gravity Falls all her life, Wendy knew that Soos had a weird aversion to his own birthday. But he seemed to enjoy other people's. "OK," she said. She unwrapped and opened the box and took out a sliver knife only about four inches long and not much thicker than a quarter.</p><p>"This," Stan said, "will come in so handy you'll never know how you got along without it. Titanium, so it's stronger than you'd think. Four blades, see? One regular, one a little saw. Then an awl. And this hooked one—this is the beauty part."</p><p>"What does it do?" Wendy asked.</p><p>"It's a lockpick," Stan said. "I'll give you lessons. By this time next month, you can open just about any door, get out of handcuffs, or hot-wire a car."</p><p>"I can do all those things," Soos said.</p><p>Stan nodded. "Good for you, Soos. Everybody oughta have basic skills. Oh, I didn't pack it, but there's a belt that goes with this, has a concealed pocket for carrying the knife."</p><p>"I'm gonna love this," Wendy promised. "Wow, two presents in one day! Thank you, guys."</p><p>Stan pretended to be grumpy. "Eh, it's nothing. But show up on time from now on!"</p><p>"Try my best," she said.</p><p>Stan let Soos off at his house first and then, as he drove back to the Shack, he said, "Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you. Next week my grand-niece and nephew are coming up to spend the whole summer. They'll be lots of help in the Shack. Mabel and Nipper Pines. Wait, I mean Dipper. That's a nickname. Twins."</p><p>"Where are they gonna stay?" Wendy asked as they got out of the car.</p><p>"Up in the attic. I'm fixin' 'em a bedroom. Soos is helping. Be nice to them, OK? Their mom and dad say they've never been to a summer camp, even. I want 'em to help work in the Shack, but I also want 'em to have a good time."</p><p>"Little kids?" Wendy asked.</p><p>"Yeah, kinda," Stan said. "They're, I dunno. Older than ten, anyway. So help me make 'em welcome. They'll be company. Happy birthday, Wendy. Wait a minute, I'll go get your belt and you can be on your way."</p><p>He came back, she slipped the knife in the concealed pocket—cool—and strapped the belt on. "How'd you know my size?" she asked.</p><p>"Just guessed. But the buckle detaches, so you can trim the belt if it's too big on you."</p><p>She tucked the flappy belt tongue inside the loops of her jeans. "Might do it. OK, see you tomorrow," she said. "I'll be on time."</p><p>"Yeah, Sunday, so one-thirty sharp!"</p><p>"'Bye, Mr. Pines."</p><p>She mounted her bike, sped down the driveway to the road, and started pumping up the hill. The Corduroy house was a few miles away. Wendy daydreamed about the time when she could get her own car. She wondered if Stan and Soos would let her practice driving so she could get her real license next birthday. She got a little misty-eyed because, except for her crew, Soos and Stan were the first people ever to give her birthday presents.</p><p>And she wondered, just a little, about the kids who were coming for the summer. Mabel and Dipper. What goofy names. She hoped they'd be better behaved than her own younger brothers.</p><p>"One thing," she said out loud as she turned in at the driveway to the Corduroy cabin, "no matter how much Stan sweet-talks me, if they turn out to be brats, I'm not gonna be a babysitter!"</p><p>Still, this summer—as opposed to working at her cousin Steve's logging camp up north—was shaping up to be something just a little bit special. Nice and—compared to logging—easy. Nice, long, lazy summer where nothing much happened.</p><p>Wendy was looking forward to it.</p>
<hr/><p>The End</p>
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